


Curriculum Vitae

by Chash



Series: Ad Astra [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9052117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: It's not like Clarke is actually surprised that Bellamy's first priority, upon being hired to teach History of Magic, is to dismantle the Hogwarts educational system. That's exactly what she would have expected. She's not even surprised he wants to drag her and Lincoln along with him.The only surprise is that Headmaster Kane is letting him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bgonemydear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bgonemydear/gifts).



> Last of the long fills, for my wonderful and amazing girlfriend. Merry Christmas, babe, I love you.
> 
> In notes that matter to people that are not Brit, I'm saying this takes place in actual canon Hogwarts, but have made no attempts to make anyone sound British, for which I apologize. Hogwarts AUs are weird like that.

Three years after he graduates, Bellamy is asked to go back to Hogwarts.

For Clarke, it's a relief as sharp and palpable as anything she's felt since she realized her mother's legacy wouldn't haunt her forever, because it means he's coming _home_. It's not as difficult for wizards and witches, living far apart, but it's still a strain. After Bellamy finished school, he went to America to study at one of their wizarding universities, and it had been a good enough fit for him that she'd wondered, sometimes, if he'd come back, or if she'd have to decide whether to move with him or remain in strange limbo. They'd had ways, of course, to see each other, but the time difference was hard, and always being on different schedules.

But Professor Binns finally decides that he's ready to move on to the afterlife, once he finds a worthy successor to teach History of Magic, and Bellamy is, of course, more than qualified. He was Binns' favorite.

They have a nice ceremony, Professor Binns passes the torch and retires to the next life, and Bellamy starts teaching at Hogwarts and is immediately and utterly annoyed with it.

"Seriously," he says, pacing while Clarke watches with a slightly indulgent smile on her face. "It's ridiculous. Muggle Studies is a fucking joke. How is that an elective? Ignorance of the Muggle world isn't a good thing."

"I know."

"The technology ban is archaic, the isolationism is stupid, I just--fuck. I want to burn the whole thing to the ground and start over."

"It's a castle," Clarke points out. "Historically, those are hard to burn."

He glares at her, and she smiles wider. "You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean. I'm just not sure what you're looking for from me. Is this a test-run of what you're going to tell Headmaster Kane?"

"No, I haven't started on what I'm going to tell him yet. I haven't even been there a year. At what point do I get to try to reinvent the entire teaching system?"

"I think he must have known it was coming when he hired you," Clarke admits. "He had to know what he was getting into, right? He was your legal guardian for years. It shouldn't be a surprise."

"No, it shouldn't." He sighs and flops down on the couch next to her. "I'm going to work up a whole proposal. Probably suggest some staffing changes. It's going to be a huge project."

"Cool," says Clarke, leaning down to kiss him. "That definitely sounds like a good idea. Just let me know what you need me to do."

She's expecting her role in his campaign to be mostly administrative, and it mostly is, at least to start. He gives himself a full year of teaching, and then, in the summer, the planning begins. Clarke is in school herself, almost done with her mediwitch training, and there's a part of her that isn't looking forward to being done next year and being off Bellamy's schedule again. It's nice, to have the whole summer with him.

Even if they are, admittedly, spending the vast majority of their time on Bellamy's review of Hogwarts curriculum. They still manage to get in a vacation to Japan, spending time with their friends, and plenty of sex, but mostly it's all business. And Clarke would be lying if she said it wasn't fun. Passionate Bellamy is one of her favorite Bellamys, and she _does_ agree with him. Hogwarts is a good school, but it's too isolated, and wizards on the whole need to start realizing that ignorance of the Muggle world isn't something to be encouraged. It's elitist and stupid and _dangerous_.

"You think Lincoln would be interested in this?" he asks, when Clarke finishes a rant about just that subject. It's something she thinks about a lot, in her training. She's done a lot of research about Muggle medicine, just out of personal interest, and they have some good ideas, but no one ever believes her. Magic may be more efficient at _curing_ most maladies than Muggle medicine, but they could learn a lot from Muggle diagnostic techniques.

"Lincoln?" she asks, surprised.

He sighs. "Honestly, I think Muggle Studies is the key to all this, and I don't know how to do it. Maybe he does."

"Don't know how to do it how?"

"It feels like it needs to be a required course, but that's not it either," he says. "Plenty of students don't need to learn about Muggle life. We grew up as Muggles, or with a Muggle parent, or they were living in the Muggle world until--"

"Until your mother got killed," she supplies.

"Yeah. But--I looked at the curriculum, it's a mess. And it's not--it's all trivia, and not even accurate trivia. There's a whole unit on Captain America as a historical figure in World War 2."

Clarke isn't an expert on Muggles, but even she knows how ridiculous that is. "Wow. Seriously?"

"Wizards basically think Muggle science is magic, so, yeah. Humans could absolutely have a serum that makes them super strong. It's so plausible." He rubs his face. "It's not hard to find this stuff out, but Professor Spigot doesn't think Muggles are people. Not like wizards are. So--I think Lincoln would do better."

It takes her a second to catch up; she'd sort of assumed he just wanted advice. "You want Lincoln to be the new Muggle Studies professor?"

"I think he'd be good at it, yeah. He's smart, good with kids, and he understands how Muggle society actually works. And it's not like his job is so great."

Lincoln's working as a magical creature researcher, and on paper, the job is perfect for him. But Bellamy's right, of course; in practice, Lincoln spends a lot of time in Wales, looking under mushrooms and hating his asshole of a boss.

He _would_ be a good teacher.

"What do you have for your sister?" she teases. "I assume this is when you just start hiring all your friends and family."

"Maybe once she's done with her Quidditch career, she can take over doing flying lessons," he says, without missing a beat. "But I don't know if she's really suited to teaching. And I haven't told you what I want you to do yet."

She has to smile. "Yet."

"I'm still figuring it out."

"Well, keep me posted. But, yeah. I think Lincoln's a good idea. You're right, he'd be good. And you guys actually agree on a lot of stuff, once you get over yourself."

"Just me?"

"Just you. Lincoln's basically over himself by default."

He snorts. "Thanks." But he's too excited about his project to even pretend to be offended. "You think he's busy now?"

"Probably. But you might as well check."

Lincoln's thrilled, of course. Octavia is less thrilled, mostly because she objects to her brother trying to dorkify her boyfriend, which Clarke finds hilarious, because Lincoln is absolutely a dork in his own right, and it's in no way Bellamy's fault that he's excited about this. As he should be, in Clarke's opinion. It's exciting. Even Octavia thinks so, Clarke's pretty sure; she keeps getting sucked in in spite of herself.

"You're right about Muggle Studies," says Lincoln, thoughtful. "It's important, and I don't think we can keep it as an elective, but I would have been bored out of my mind if I had to take a class about Muggles. And mildly offended, honestly."

"Yeah," Bellamy grants. "But you didn't know wizard stuff." He huffs. "It's ridiculous, honestly. You knew more than some people did because of your dad, but still. Muggleborns just get thrown into this."

"I had to show him how to get onto the train," Clarke points out. "We don't even have someone there to show Muggleborns where the platform is."

"We don't need Muggle Studies," Bellamy says, slow. "Or--we don't _just_ need Muggle Studies. We need to teach everyone how to get along in two worlds. Wizard kids need to learn how to wear Muggle clothes and use Google, and Muggle kids need to learn basic spells and stuff wizard kids grow up learning." He grins at Clarke. "I think I've got a job for you."

She laughs. "That didn't take as long as I thought."

"Come on, it would be good. Not Muggle Studies. Unity Studies. Required course up through fourth year, and then they can keep going if they're interested in being--liaisons? Fuck, I don't know what you want to call it, but we need more wizards who get how this stuff works and want to work with it. Muggleborns know, but--"

"But we're excited to be wizards," Lincoln says. 

"Exactly."

"I think it's a good idea," he says. "But I wouldn't get too attached to any of your staffing choices. Headmaster Kane might not be ready for so much change so quickly."

Bellamy smirks. "It doesn't have to happen quickly," he says. "I can wait."

*

What's odd to Clarke is that he apparently _can_ wait. She doesn't tend to think of Bellamy as a patient person, but wizards are stubborn and slow to change, and she's pretty sure academics are too. Hogwarts has never done anything like this before--even adding Muggle Studies was a struggle, and it's not a class that's really _meant_ to educate. It's trivia, not--well, _life_. And Clarke is with Bellamy. It _should_ be.

So she's just as glad when, a few months into Bellamy's second year at Hogwarts, Kane asks her and Lincoln to come talk to him about it.

In a way, it's not surprising. The headmaster and Clarke aren't close, but they still have a complicated relationship. He was friends with her mother before she was married, and given the trajectory of their relationship after her mother was pardoned, she gets the impression they grew apart _because_ her mother got married. 

Given Clarke still isn't close with her mother and, honestly, sees more of the headmaster than she does of Abby, it's a very weird situation.

"I assume you know that Professor Blake has put your names in for consideration for teaching positions," he says.

Clarke and Lincoln exchange a look. That's the other weird thing about Kane--he is, technically, the closest thing Bellamy and Octavia have to a father at the moment, which, honestly, isn't saying much. The Blakes are independent and barely needed a parental figure when they were children, let alone now. But it's still strange, to hear him call Bellamy _Professor Blake_.

"No, he never talks to me about stuff," Clarke says. "It's not like we've been dating for five years and live together or anything."

"We're aware, yes," says Lincoln, but Kane looks a little amused.

"I suppose that was a stupid question. Professor Blake seems convinced that Hogwarts needs to change its approach, and I'm wondering how much thought the two of you have put into that. It's his vision, but he wants the two of you to execute it. It's not surprise that he would trust the two of you with this, you've always--" Apparently, he remembers the three years it took Bellamy to warm up to her, and, by extension Lincoln. "You've been friends for a long time," he corrects smoothly. "Bellamy is good at rhetoric, and I'll admit he's persuasive. But he said the two of you had your own plans for curriculum."

It's a little generous, since all they've really done is get drunk and yell about it, but that's mostly because nothing is certain yet. They have plenty of ideas, but she wouldn't call them anything as unified as a plan.

Still, as a group, they're nothing if not quick on their (mental) feet.

"I think all three of us agree that one of the most beneficial things for all of us at Hogwarts was meeting people from different backgrounds, and learning about them. And I believe our experience was--unusual," says Lincoln, slow. Clarke tries not to smile. "It's not common for students to mingle so much outside of their own houses and social circles; we were exceptions. But being ignorant of the wider world isn't just stupid, it's dangerous. As Muggles become more advanced, it's more noticeable when we remain stuck in the past. It's suspicious, too, with the advancement of technology. And--closing yourself off to useful innovations is just short-sighted, honestly."

"Yes," says Kane, sounding amused. "This is what Professor Blake tells me. I was looking for something more concrete."

"We haven't made lesson plans for positions we don't have yet," says Clarke. "But we have discussed it. The format we were thinking of would start with fairly separate classes. For first and second years, it would be basic, daily life information. Wizards would learn some about household appliances and traditions; Muggleborns would learn the kinds of spells so simple that wizard children don't remember learning them. And then I think--" He glances at Clarke. "More interaction between the classes once the students get older, for discussions and exchange of ideas. On the one hand, I think students shouldn't need a class to learn about their classmates' lives. On the other, it's clear that Muggleborns aren't currently encouraged to share their lives. If anything, they're encouraged to forget them. And, as I said, it's very easy to never socialize outside of one's house."

"That doesn't mean it's the school's duty to force socialization," says Kane, even.

"Yeah, and how has not encouraging socialization worked out, historically?" Clarke asks, dry. "Besides, we're taking students from two different worlds here. Literally. As a school, it should be our responsibility to prepare them for society, and right now, we're encouraging them to isolate themselves."

"And, not to put too fine a point on it," Lincoln adds. "But having an optional Muggle Studies course with a subpar curriculum is worse than not having one at all. It also encourages your Muggleborn to look down on that part of their lives, as if it's an optional footnote. Muggleborns _are_ Muggles, after all. It's unfair and harmful to act as if their experiences are trivial matters to be forgotten as soon as possible."

"Understanding is always better than ignorance," Clarke says. "And right now, Hogwarts is teaching ignorance."

"Don't spare my feelings," Kane says, but he sounds amused. "No wonder you and Professor Blake get along so well." He considers, nods to himself. "Professor Blake is right. Hogwarts needs to reckon with its place in wizarding society, and our influence. This is a good place to start. I'll want to review the curriculum the two--" He pauses. "The _three_ of you come up with," he says, presumably realizing Bellamy's got a lot of opinions about this. "But I'd like to hire both of you on for next year, if you're willing."

"Of course," says Lincoln.

"Absolutely," Clarke agrees.

"Excellent. We can owl about logistics, I know both of you are busy. But if we're doing this, I'd like to do it right."

"I think we all would," says Lincoln. "Thank you, Professor."

"Of course. Can you give me a moment alone with Clarke?"

Lincoln cocks his head, and Clarke inclines hers. "I'm going to go see Bellamy after this anyway, so you might as well just head out."

"I should have known." He offers Kane another smile and a handshake, and then they're alone.

"I didn't realize we had private business," Clarke says, a little wary. She doesn't dislike Kane, just--it's weird. It will actually be a relief, working for him, because right now she's just connected to him through other people. He's close to her mother. He's Bellamy's boss. She doesn't know what the two of them are to each other.

"You're training to become a mediwitch," he says. "Almost done with school, I believe."

"Yes."

"And you don't mind giving up that career to do this?"

"No," she says. "It's--I'm having the same problems everywhere I look. I like Muggle technology. I think our society would be better if we learned from Muggles, instead of dismissing them and encouraging Muggleborns to throw away their roots. I want to help with that, and--this is exciting."

He nods. "I'm glad to hear it." She can practically _see_ him fighting with himself, but he finally does say, "Your mother was very proud of you. For wanting to become a healer."

"Well," says Clarke. "I hope she can be proud of this too."

*

"How'd it go?" Bellamy asks.

It always feels a little like breaking some unwritten rule to Clarke, visiting Bellamy at school. She's always waiting for someone to find her and kick her out for being in a professor's private quarters. Not that Bellamy actually _lives_ at Hogwarts, but it's close. She might actually see less of him than when he was in America, but he doesn't feel as far away. And he's still in their bed every night.

It'll be nice when both of them can just live here, though. So she'd better get used to the professors' rooms.

"We're hired. He wants a curriculum, but he seems to think it really is a good idea. Also that my mother will be disappointed."

He snorts. "Did he present that as a pro or a con?"

"Just a statement. It's not like he's wrong."

"Yeah, your mom isn't historically big on unity with Muggles."

"She's coming around," Clarke admits. "I do think--" She makes a face. "Fuck. There's no good way to say that."

He looks amused. "Say what?"

"The stuff the Wallaces were doing. I think it went too far for her. I'm not saying that makes it _better_ , just--" She sighs. "It did change her mind. So--glad my dad and your mom and a bunch of other people died so she could learn that Muggleborns are human."

She feels Bellamy push her legs off his couch so he can sit down next to her. "You don't have to feel bad," he says. It's not a conversation they have often, probably because it sucks every time. And because, in the end, there's nothing to do about it. Clarke's family helped kill Bellamy's mother.

She didn't do anything wrong, and he loves her. 

"I'm just glad she draws the line somewhere," he says, but he sounds amused. "Kane keeps threatening that I'm going to meet her, by the way."

"Really? Why would you ever meet her?" She pauses. "Other than the fact that we're dating and she's my mother. But--why is Kane saying that?"

"I'm not sure. I think--" He's quiet for long enough that she opens her eyes to look at him. He's staring forward. "You really want to know?" he asks.

"No, definitely lie to me about whatever's stressing you out right now."

He snorts. "Right, yeah." He lets out a breath. "I think he trusts me."

Only Bellamy could make that sound like some huge, unthinkable thing. "You know you're not untrustworthy, right? Why wouldn't he trust you?"

"Not just--I think I'm doing what he wants." He lets out a breath. "I feel weird saying it, it's not like he should be anywhere near leaving. But I think he wants me to take over for him. As Headmaster."

Clarke sits up to look at him. "You never mentioned that."

He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm still not sure. It seems--it's a lot. Everytime I think that's happening, I talk myself out of it."

It honestly doesn't seem that far-fetched to Clarke. Headmaster of Hogwarts is one of those positions that seems like a great political stepping stone, but if you stay there too long, it doesn't work. And she's never gotten the impression Kane loves it.

"Would it be bad if he was?"

"I don't know if I'd want to be Headmaster," he admits. "I like teaching too much. Admin stuff doesn't cut it, even if I could overhaul the whole curriculum. But--I could live with more influence."

"I couldn't tell," she teases. "I thought everyone talked about educational policy in their sleep."

He gives her a half-hearted glare. "I do not."

"It's cute."

"Yeah, that was my big concern." He sighs. "I've just been here for a year. I'm amazed he didn't kick me out for telling him he should rethink Muggle Studies."

"Yeah, but he didn't. So maybe you're right." She curls into his side. "He'd be smart to do it."

"Yeah, put some twenty-something kid in charge of Hogwarts," he says. "I'm pretty sure the board would riot."

"Maybe you're not in charge for a while. Maybe for a while you teach and help out behind the scenes, and then by the time you take over, it looks more like the school you want."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm reading into his ominous invitations to fancy parties with your mom."

"I was wondering what this had to do with him wanting you to meet my mother. I think you're probably reading into that part," she can't help teasing. "He probably just wants you guys to be friends. You guys have so much in common."

He snorts. "Yeah, that must be it."

*

She doesn't stop her training, just like Lincoln doesn't stop his weird magical creatures job. Not yet, anyway. But they spend a lot of their spare time planning, comparing notes about childhoods with Bellamy and Octavia and their other friends, figuring out what they wished they knew about Muggles or wizards, what they still don't know. It's strange, finding out all the basic things they've never talked about, the extent to which there really are two worlds, existing on top of each other. Clarke thought she knew a lot about Muggles, but she's still sort of amazed that Bellamy and Lincoln both know all the words to the theme song of something called _Teletubbies_ , and that said Teletubbies are more terrifying than any monster she's ever seen in her life. And she's seen real, actual monsters.

"Yeah, honestly," Bellamy says, once he's thought it over. "I'd rather fight a vampire than a Teletubby. But they seemed normal when I was a kid."

"I don't think that's vital knowledge, though," Lincoln adds.

"Isn't it?" she asks. "I mean, you think it's weird I've never seen _Teletubbies_."

"I think you're lucky," Bellamy grumbles. 

"It depends on what our goals are," Lincoln muses. "If what we want is for wizards to be able to blend in, a focus on that kind of pop culture is important. But I think we should be thinking about understanding, not camouflage."

"And you're saying _Teletubbies_ isn't a vital part of understanding your soul?" Clarke teases.

He grins back. "You're right, I'm sorry. All these years we've been friends, you've never truly understood me, because you didn't realize my favorite Teletubby is Tinky Winky."

"That's not its real name," she says. "I refuse to believe that."

Bellamy pulls out his phone and gets up a website. Honestly, Clarke doesn't understand how wizards can say Muggles don't have magic. Anyone who does has never interacted with an iPhone. "Tinky Winky is the purple one," he says, showing her the official homepage. Which, for some reason, exists. "We'd never lie about Teletubbies."

"I wish you would," she mutters, but she's smiling.

"I think this is probably our goal, actually," Lincoln says.

"Bellamy traumatizing me with Teletubby pictures?" Clarke asks, and he kisses her cheek.

"We don't want to teach them about these things," he says. "We want to give them the boring background, and then they teach each other the interesting parts."

Clarke smiles, leans into Bellamy's side. "Yeah, you're right," she says. "That's exactly what we should be teaching them."

"Did you know the sun has a weird baby face on it?" Bellamy asks, apparently still fascinated by the _Teletubbies_ website. "Check this out."

Clarke dissolves into giggles against his shoulder. "Can you believe anyone actually trusts us to educate children?"

He grins. "I know. It's awesome, right?"

Lincoln's smiling too, a little softer, and she tugs him over so he can see Bellamy's phone too. These things are meant to be shared. "Yeah. The best."

*

The beginning of the school year is rocky, to say the least, and Clarke feels bad because it's so much worse for Lincoln than it is for her. After all, she has the easy job: Muggleborns _want_ to learn about the wizarding world. Everything is new and exciting and they're nothing but questions and curiosity. Clarke's lesson plans get derailed because something she thinks of as normal is so cool they go off on a twenty-minute tangent, and it's slightly frustrating, but mostly just nice. They're interested. They like this.

For Lincoln, it's a real struggle. 

"Obviously some of them want to learn," he says. He's lying on Bellamy and Clarke's couch, waiting for Octavia to finish practice so he can go home and complain to her instead. "But the pure--blood Slytherins are being incredibly disruptive."

"Yeah," says Bellamy. "Pure-blood Slytherins are such assholes."

"I don't see why anyone would ever date one," Clarke agrees, and he grins and kisses her.

"I assume you're making out now, but when you're done, I could use advice from the expert," says Lincoln, not opening his eyes. "I would prefer to not just reach the desperate outcast Slytherins who attach themselves to Hufflepuffs because no one else will talk to them."

"But those are the best ones," she teases. "Bellamy, you're the expert here. How are the Slytherins dealing with you adding Muggle history into the curriculum for context?"

"So, not to totally stereotype based on what a talking hat says when you're eleven," he says, "but Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are fine with it regardless of their blood status, because they know they're supposed to be. They're the houses that value not being assholes because of your blood status. Unless you're a pure-blood," he adds.

"Yeah, I was going to say."

"In my defense, your mom was on trial for killing my mom."

"In your defense. So, what about Ravenclaws and Slytherins?"

"Ravenclaws are usually intellectually curious, but some of them have decided to hate Muggle stuff because it's backward and useless. They've come up with an academic justification for bigotry. And Slytherins, yeah. Hating Muggle shit is built into their house identity. So, if nothing else, you can just tie it into academics. They want good grades. If they don't discuss and recognize the impact of what Muggles were doing at the time in their papers, I dock them points, so they do it. Slytherins tend to care about grades almost as much as Ravenclaws." He pauses. "And, honestly, all the old wizard families are pissed about the curriculum changes, so give it a few years and they'll all have transferred to Durmstrang."

"Or, you teach them why it benefits them to know about their enemies," says Clarke. "This is why so many of the pure-blood Slytherin families are stupid. You know why they turned against Dante Wallace? It wasn't because he was doing eugenic experiments. They supported that. It was because he was using Muggle science to do it. And that's why he was actually effective."

Lincoln pauses, thinking it over. "So you're saying I should tell my students they need to learn about Muggles so they can get good grades and be more informed bigots. I'm so glad I came to the two of you with this."

"You just need to get them thinking about it," Bellamy says. He pauses and shifts, his arm tightening around Clarke's shoulders. "It's really easy to blindly hate someone. I had a much better reason to hate Clarke than most Gryffindors did, and I still ended up--"

Clarke sits up straighter. "I don't actually know this story."

"You don't?" Lincoln asks, surprised.

"Weirdly, we don't really like to talk about that whole thing." She looks at Bellamy. "Why did you stop hating me?"

"When I told Lincoln to leave you alone, I said even the other Slytherins hated you. And they did. But, uh--the longer that went on, the more I thought about it. Like--I hated someone all the Slytherins hated. That was fucked up. And you stood by Lincoln," he adds. "I figured he just didn't know any better, but--he did. And the trial happened and everything came out, and you still didn't try to turn it into--you didn't go back to the rest of the Slytherins. You didn't do anything. And then I saw you hexing, uh--what's her name. Ontari? And she didn't even see who did it. She was bullying a couple first-year Gryffindors, and you hexed her before I could."

Clarke smiles. "And she blamed you."

"And you let her. You were a Slytherin, I wasn't expecting you to take the fall for me." He wets his lips. "That was when I changed my mind about you. Once I started paying attention, I couldn't help noticing you were a real person, and you were pretty cool." He clears his throat, looks away. "So, yeah. That's my first step. Get them paying attention, and once they're doing that, it's hard to stop. And then it's all over."

"Huh," Lincoln says. "I'm not sure I know how to sell that."

"I can try," says Clarke. "I might be, you know, a Muggle-loving blood traitor," she adds. "But I'm still a Slytherin."

"You talk the talk," says Bellamy. "Even if you don't walk the walk."

"Muggle slang like that is why pure-bloods don't like you," she teases.

"Huh. I thought it was centuries of institutionalized discrimination, but, sure. Let's go with that."

"Seriously, I can come talk to them," she tells Lincoln. "It probably makes sense. We're co-teaching, so I should get to know your classes, and you can get to know mine. And I'll talk to the pure-bloods."

"I don't think it can do any harm," he says, thoughtful. "And I'll try to put focus on how much better the Gryffindors are doing because they're participating."

"And, like I said," Bellamy says. "Either they'll get used to it and learn something in spite of themselves, or their parents will pull them out of Hogwarts because we're Muggle-loving liberals."

Clarke bumps her shoulder against his; he sounds a little frustrated, and she gets it. Part of Kane's hesitation was conservatives abandoning Hogwarts, and they all expected it. But even expecting it, it's still a little staggering, there are wizards who are so opposed to even _learning_ about Muggles that they'd pull their children out of school in protest.

And it's worse for Bellamy and Lincoln than it is for her. They were raised as Muggles, after all. It's personal for them in a way it can't be for Clarke, no matter how much she loves them.

"Muggle-loving liberals are the future," she tells him. "Help me with this lesson plan."

*

With her history, Clarke hasn't ever felt that close to _Slytherins_. She knows it's the best house for her. She _is_ cunning. She knows how to manipulate people. She's smart and driven and sometimes makes up her mind about people too quickly. But she's not close-minded, she doesn't care about the purity of her blood, and she has trouble feeling like she fits in with most of her housemates.

Sometimes, she wonders what it would have been like, if the other Slytherins hadn't been against her from the start. She wonders if she would have started to hate Muggleborns, because she was supposed to. Because everyone else did.

She likes to think she wouldn't have. She likes to think she knows better. But she'll never be _sure_.

Her own students are so eager that it's a shock to meet Lincoln's. Even her older students, the ones who have been at school for a while, are curious about things, wanting to learn the day-to-day things about wizard life that they haven't witnessed unless they visit friends for holidays. They _like_ her class.

She has it easy.

The wizard-raised class is loud and chaotic. The Slytherins and Gryffindors are sniping at each other, the Ravenclaws are interjecting whenever they come up with a good barb, and the single third-year Hufflepuff pure-blood is reading a history book and trying to ignore everyone else in the room.

It's a good thing Lincoln has an endless store of patience; Clarke already wants to give the entire class detention. Minus the Hufflepuff.

"Wow," she says, pitching her voice so it slices through the noise. They quiet, and she smirks. "No, no, this is pretty exciting. Don't let me interrupt you guys yelling."

"What are you doing here?" Cygnus Archer, one of the Gryffindors asks, sounding wary. "Sorry, Professor Griffin," he adds, when she just stares at him. "I thought you taught the other section."

"I do, but we're co-professors," she says. "So I figured it was about time I got to meet his section. And, honestly, Professor Woods probably needed a break. Are you always this loud, or should I feel special?"

"Maybe if Professor Woods said anything worth listening to, we wouldn't have to talk so much ourselves," says Hestia Morden. A Slytherin, of course.

"Huh," says Clarke. She nods. "Okay, show of hands. How many of you think this class is worthless?"

All of Slytherins and a handful of Ravenclaws shoot their hands up. 

"Sounds about right. Kingman," she says, nodding toward a Ravenclaw. "Why's it worthless?"

"I could be studying something that matters," she says. "I don't need to know anything about Muggles. I know enough to not draw attention to myself already. It's not _hard_."

"Do you have any Muggleborn friends?"

She shrugs. "Sure."

"And you don't care about what their lives are like?"

"I don't think I need to be graded on my ability to talk to my friends," she says, but it's a little defensive.

"Maybe you don't, but some people do. Burns," she says, nodding to a Slytherin. "Why don't you think this is worth your time?"

"I don't care about Muggles."

"What about writing?" she asks.

"What about it?"

"Not that I gossip about you guys with Professor Blake and Professor Woods," she says, "but you have the worst handwriting I've ever seen. Except Professor Blake's. And Professor Blake's sister's."

"So?" asks Burns.

"So, Muggles have this thing called a computer. I type all my notes because then I don't have to hand write stuff. It's so much better. It took us a century to decide the printing press was a good idea; we should be faster with computers and smart phones."

"Smart phones?" asks one of the Gryffindors.

"Those are _great_ ," says Anita, the lone Hufflepuff. "My aunt married a Muggle, and my cousin doesn't have any magic, but he's got an iPhone and it's really cool. But we can't use them here," she adds.

"We're working on that," Clarke says. "Look, Muggles don't have magic. That means they have stuff they came up with on their own, and, honestly? We use a lot of it. Printing press, like I said. Muggles came up with plumbing, and wizards were still using chamber pots for years until we caught on. Clocks, trains, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Muggles came up with all of those."

"How did _Muggles_ come up with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?" demands Olivia Hunter, another Slytherin.

"They're called Jelly Bellies," says Clarke. "They don't have _every_ flavor. You need magic for that. But the Muggles put in like a hundred different ones, and some wizard saw them and decided to make them every flavor."

"So we take Muggle stuff and make it better," says a Slytherin, and the others cheer.

"Not if you don't know about the Muggle stuff first," Clarke shoots back. "You can't make something better if you don't know how it works." She pauses. "And the wizard who made Every Flavor Beans was a Muggleborn, so don't get cocky about wizards doing Muggle things better. A lot of wizards doing Muggle things better comes from Muggleborns, not pure-bloods."

No one seems to have an answer for that, and Clarke's not sure what to say either, so she's actually profoundly grateful when one of the Ravenclaws who didn't raise his hand, Tompkins, says "No wonder you're dating Professor Blake," and everyone else laughs.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, this is what we talk about in our spare time," she says, like it's a joke. Like they _don't_ actually talk about this all the time. "Okay, we've still got a whole class period. Not to steal Professor Blake's historical thunder, but we're talking about the printing press."

*

Lincoln's birthday happens to fall at the end of September, so they can celebrate his getting older and their surviving the first month of school all at once. Octavia, Miller, Raven, and the rest of their friends will be showing up later, but the three of them go to the Three Broomsticks right after they're done with classes, and Bellamy buys the first round.

"To pissing off pure-bloods and tricking their kids into learning," Bellamy says, raising his mug.

"And to Lincoln," Clarke adds. "Since it's his birthday."

"Yeah, okay. Pissing off pure-bloods, tricking kids, and Lincoln."

Clarke grins at Lincoln, who smiles back and raises his own mug. "Yeah," she says. "I'll drink to that."


End file.
